


The Breaking Of Ceremony

by maymabane



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Evil, Evil Rules The World, M/M, Poverty, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-25
Updated: 2012-05-25
Packaged: 2017-11-06 00:38:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/412790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maymabane/pseuds/maymabane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things are made to be broken.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Breaking Of Ceremony

**Author's Note:**

> It begins at M, but I promise you shall get your porn.

Chapter 1- Mornings Ceremonials

 

Eyes open; blinked, once, twice. Yawns are allowed to pass through cracked lips. Drool is wiped from a chin. Stretching. More yawns. It is morning. Rays of warm sunlight flood in through an open balcony door. Good mornings are received; answered. What would you like for breakfast sir? Anything. Feet scuffle against cool tile floors. Giggles from the maids. Teeth bite cracked, thin lips. Blood dribbles to the chin. A swift tongue catches the blood. No blood. You have had your turn in the kingdom. In this castle. Let this kingdom be pure again. The giggles erupt again. He can't stand the sound of giggling. It's a high squeaky sound, played on repeat. It's passed on from woman to woman, boy to girl, bedroom to bedroom. Yet Severus has yet to giggle. He has yet to even crack a smile. But then again the battlefield needs warriors ; not giggling fools.

“Breakfast is served.” Warm bread, scrambled eggs, sausage. Typical. Severus bites into the bread first. Maids expectantly hold handkerchiefs. Should butter, grease, or sauce touch his night shirt it would be whisked away. No dirt. Your place is on the streets, covering the poor children. Your place is under the fingernails of prostitutes. Your place is in the mouth of the starving man, willing to eat anything. 

Severus eats in silence, occasional sipping at a glass of pumpkin juice. The breads warmth is threatened by the cool wind of the morning. Maids protect it with towels. Should Severus want a slice later, it would still be hot for him. Severus doesn't pay them any mind. His mind is on replay. Replaying every touch, every second of last night. The kisses and whispers sneak into his body. They are searching for him. They are searching for his Slytherin fire. For his cold retorts. But they can not find them. They find broken words, broken tears, broken love. They find pictures of Lily. They find green eyes that sparkle. But they do not find Severus. So they stay and wait for him to come back. Severus doesn't want them to wait. He wants the words and kisses to go away. They have no place in his broken bones. They have no place in his broken heart.

 

_-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Eyes open quickly. No time for yawning, no time for stretching. It's too late into the morning. He should have been up hours ago. Quick! Remus washes with hurried hands, water barely warming to his body. Buttons are sewn with frantic hands. Jacket. Trousers. Shoes. Shave? Later. Pick up a slice of bread, apply minimal butter. Eat! Eat! You don't want to be hungry today. Today he needs say beautiful words to undeserving men. Whisper sweet nothings into the ears of rapists, liars, cheats. Remus has to pretend to love evil men. And love will still have it's place here. Love has fought it's battle. Love is why Remus lets himself be used. He lets himself be broken and abused for Teddy. Love is why when he comes home he holds Teddy to him and hums lullabies. Love is why Remus touches and caresses Dora. Love doesn't need to leave this home. Love is why they are still together.

Remus unlocks the door to the brothel, eyes adjusting to the dim lights of Le' Wolf. His body moves itself, falling into protocol. Step over the bodies. Ignore the stench of rotting flesh, of dying souls. Pull of your clothes. Fold them neatly on the rickety chair in your room. The door handle turns. Remus forces his face to smile. Smile dear smile. Become Moony for the nice man, no men. The brute brought along friends. Become the frisky marauder for them. 

The bed creaks under the pressure of his body and the man's. His friends smile down on his, eyes twinkling. The man above him has blue eyes. Sirius had blue eyes. It starts. Remus's body is rocking with the first man's. Remus nicknames him Blue. The beefy one on his right is Mutt- he smells like Sirius and the lean one on his left is Sticks. Remus allows a moan to press through his lips. They are dry and do not want the moan to come through. Remus has forgotten his lipstick. Damn. Now he would have to suffer with kisses being pressed to his dry lips. Blue lets out a feral moan. Remus snaps back into his work. He moans with him, whispering words that may have been loving.

Sticks is next. Stick is healthier than Blue. Remus kisses Sticks for three minutes and eight seconds. Sticks' breath taste of mint. Remus enjoys that taste for a few moments. It feels his mouth and clears his nose. Remus winks at Sticks. Sticks laughs and and pulls Remus into another kiss. Their tongues brush quickly, real moans break the silence. Remus blocks out the conversation between Blue and Mutt. 

“Yes darling kiss me, make love to me.” Remus breaths the sweetened words into the kiss. His hands feel on Sticks body. Sticks looks like Sirius the most. Blue eyes, curly black hair, soft lips. Remus moans again as Sticks bites on his neck. His body jerks as a tongue cools of the burning bite. The facial hair is just right. Just the right amount of bristle that brushes against his nose, his chest. Lips capture his nipple. They are making love now. It is no longer prostitution. This is honest sex.

Remus shoos the other two men out, but not before winking at Mutt. Mutt's erection has been pressing against his trousers the whole time. Remus finds himself fancying a taste. Sticks brings him back with a nudge. Remus has been doing nothing. He hasn't moved his legs open, he hasn't kissed, he hasn't dug his nails into Sticks back. Remus spreads his legs. They are still sticky from Blue's cum. Sticks isn't as gentle as he first thought. Sticks spits on his hand. Two semi-dry fingers enter his body roughly. Remus groans in pain. His body feels like it is being split open. Remus can see the bottle of lube from where he is laying. He doesn't reach for it. Instead he suffers through. Sticks is too big for him. The blunt head of Stick's cock won't allow itself to slip in. So Remus fades like he always does. Remus slips into himself becoming someone else for his customer. Sticks won't even miss him. For Sticks he is a living sex toy.

 

_Sirius looks so beautiful. Those beautiful blue eyes look down on him, filled with love. Remus is moaning- real moans. Real big moans shake his body. Sirius is rocking in him. Remus loves that feeling of being full. Of being full of his lover. But he isn't weak. Oh no that is the last thing Remus is. Remus growls, nipping at Sirius' neck._

_“Come on mutt. Fuck me like a dog.” Immediately, the bed begins to shake and rattle. Remus's moans have turned in screams and shouts. The world doesn't matter now. All he needs is Sirius. All he needs is that slapping sound their bodies make as they touch. All he needs is the sound of swearing. Yes, this might be heaven._

_“YES! SIRIUS YES. FUCK ME! GODDAMMIT FUCK ME!” Sirius thrusts into him a few more times, deeper and deeper. They shudder with orgasms, bodies weak with love. Sirius collapses on top of Remus; exhausted. Remus laughs, amused more than anything. That was brilliant sex they just had. Remus pushed Sirius off of him and moved over to his side of the bed._

_“Mmm...baby.” Sirius kisses Remus's face, tongue flicking out to lick Remus's nose. “I love you.”_

_“And I love you too..STOP!”_

_“Stop? Remus...we were just...Remus...”_

 

His illusion faded away. Sirius was replaced by an angry Sticks. Remus lifted up from the bed, cheek wet with something. The asshole spat on him. Remus tossed an angry glare his way. Remus received a lot of shit from customers. Being strangled, being beaten, being kicked. But no one ever had to gall to outright spit on him. Clearly this jackass had no class at all.

“Who do you think you are? Get me a towel please. I need to get your disgusting body fluids off of me.”

“Look I'm sorry. It's just that you called me a mutt and you called me Sirius. You were tellin' me to fuck you like a dog. I ...I'm sorry. Should I pay you now?” 

Remus pauses then shakes his head. He didn't watch as Sticks left. Remus knew the bow had sense enough to tell his friends to give him a break. 

Has his illusion infiltrated reality? But Remus was still correct. A whorehouse was the perfect place for illusions. Illusion were better off where children could craft ideas. Illusion was better for Muggle magic shows. Illusion was better for living in this waste land called Hogsmede. Even if it meant that he'd never see the dark town for what it was.

 


End file.
